Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Ode To The Ancient Hero.
The breeze blows,
Bringing with it hints of blood and woe,
Death walks with purpose,
Picking through his spoil,
Sword and shield cannot defend
When his scythe touches the soil.
Amid the raging chaos,
The Valkyries fly on high,
And thus they shall pick the warrior
That falls,but shall not die.
My love affair with the battlefield,
I am no cynic,i crave no blood,
It is the glory that comes with courage and honour,
When Life is smeared in the mud.
My search continues, to another meadow,
Tis where i shall cut down my foes
I will not stop,
Not until my memory has become Future's widow.
What i question is my purpose,
To journey to true strength?
The shadows that i overcome,
will they answer me in the end?
Thus the warrior lives his life,
In an enigmatic hovel,
His soul,his power,his very being,
Only contained in a paperback novel.
-Me
